


Skimming the Surface

by mckays_girl



Series: Pool Boy 'Verse [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Adult Themes, Alternate Universe, First Time, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-09
Updated: 2008-07-09
Packaged: 2018-09-27 10:26:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10010489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mckays_girl/pseuds/mckays_girl
Summary: John is a Pool Boy and Rodney hires him to clean his pool.  Sexin' ensues.





	

**Author's Note:**

> girly_curl_3 seriously rocks my socks. I really couldn't have finished this without your help and encouragement, sweetie.

When Rodney finally got home from work, it was late evening. The sun was barely visible above the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant hues of gold and orange; fluffy white clouds floated across the last vestiges of blue. He pulled into the driveway of the sprawling, bungalow-inspired ranch that he shared with his girlfriend, Sarah, parking adjacent to the large SUV he'd begrudgingly bought her for her 25th birthday.  
  
It was hot, even for mid-August, and beads of sweat sprung up on Rodney's face the moment he exited the air conditioned sanctity of the car. He swiped the back of his wrist across his forehead, leaving a damp stain on the crisp fabric of his button-down shirt. Trudging to the front door, Rodney almost tripped on the steps leading up to the porch and he scraped his palm on the stucco wall as he regained his balance. Cursing, he fumbled with his keys until he finally got the door open and stepped into the cool interior of the foyer.  
  
Wandering into the kitchen, Rodney dropped his keys onto the counter and placed his laptop on a nearby chair before washing the small scrape on his hand. His stomach growled loudly, reminding him that he was starving. The house was empty, but Rodney caught a glimpse of Sarah swimming out back in the in-ground pool, so he strolled outside to see if she was interested in going out for dinner. As he crossed the patio, the last glimmers of sunlight reflected off the water, forcing him to shield his eyes from the glare.  
  
Sarah embodied Southern California: young, blonde, tanned. She emerged from the pool, slowly climbing up the ladder, water dripping from her skin. Rodney's eyes flickered over her bikini-clad body, from the swell of her breasts to the curve of her ass.  
  
"The filter's clogged again," she griped, rubbing a towel through her long, blonde hair.  
  
"Well, hello to you, too."  
  
Sarah glared.  
  
"So, clean it," Rodney countered. _It was probably your damn hair_ , he didn't say.  
  
"Hire someone," she insisted, wrapping the towel around her slender waist before walking toward the sliding glass door.  
  
"Fine," Rodney huffed, following her into the house.  
  
Sarah padded into the kitchen, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the ceramic tile. She rummaged through the fridge, producing a large glass pitcher. Grabbing a tumbler from the cabinet, Sarah poured herself a drink. "Lemonade," she offered, smiling sweetly before turning back to the counter to leave her empty cup in the sink.  
  
_Bitch_ , Rodney thought. "Ha, ha. Very funny." She had started buying lemonade about two months ago, the same time she started coming home late from work. Rodney treated it as just a coincidence. So, the woman had a newfound love of the citrusy poison; it didn't mean she was trying to kill him. Stepping up behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed the side of her neck. "Wanna go out for steak?"  
  
Sarah shrugged him off, pulling out of his embrace. "I'm going out with the girls tonight," she said indifferently and left him alone in the kitchen.  
  
"Oh," he sighed.  
  
Rodney stared morosely out the kitchen window. _Another Friday night alone_ , he thought grimly, snatching a Molson from the fridge. He grabbed a bottle-opener from the drawer, popped the top and took a long gulp. Tossing the opener haphazardly on the counter, he pulled the Chinese food menu off the fridge, studying it while he finished his beer.  
  
Rodney was distracted from his deliberations by the sight of Sarah wearing a slinky, red dress. The satiny material clung to her body, flaring away about mid-thigh. She had on matching high-heeled shoes and carried a little red purse. Rodney gawked. He didn't even know she owned a dress like that, let alone seen her wear it. He swallowed hard before speaking. " _This_ is what you wear when you go out with your friends?"  
  
Ignoring his question, Sarah swiped her sunglasses from the kitchen counter. "Don't wait up for me, I'll be late," she said as she walked out the door.  
  
"Have a good time," he called, but she was already gone.  
  
Rodney spent the night on the couch in his boxers and a worn t-shirt, drinking beer and eating Chinese right out of the carton while watching Twilight Zone re-runs on the SciFi channel. After only his third beer, he was lightly buzzed and having trouble concentrating on the TV. His eyelids felt heavy, his body and mind exhausted, as sleep claimed him.  
  
***  
  
Rodney woke with a start, jumping up from the couch and dumping the remnants of his Lo Mein on the floor. "Shit," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. He stumbled into the bathroom to take a piss, disoriented and sore from sleeping on the couch. After washing his hands and face, he went to see if Sarah was still sleeping. The bed, however, was empty; still neatly made. Sarah never made it home. He looked at his watch – 7:30. It was 7:30 in the morning and Sarah wasn't home. Rodney sat on the edge of the bed and concentrated on breathing slowly, trying to squelch the small bubble of anxiety that tightened in his chest.  
  
The sound of the front door opening brought Rodney out of his panic. He heard footsteps slowly approach from down the hall and watched as the doorknob turned ever so carefully. "Where the hell have you been?" he snapped, causing Sarah to jump.  
  
"Jesus, Rodney. I had a little too much to drink, so I spent the night at Mary's."  
  
"Would it have killed you to call?"  
  
Sarah rolled her eyes. "Sorry," she replied, although she didn't seem to be. "Next time I'll call." Sitting next to him, Sarah brushed a kiss on his cheek. She smelled freshly showered, yet her clothing stunk of smoke and an underlying hint of something musky. Standing, she stripped and began rummaging through her draws until she found sweats and an old t-shirt. "I'm going for a jog," she informed him. "Would you be a dear and take care of cleaning the pool for me?"  
  
Rodney's eyes narrowed as he watched her change. "Fine," he muttered.  
  
She turned back and gave him another chaste kiss. "Thanks," she said, slipping on her track shoes. "See you later."  
  
***  
  
After cleaning up the mess in the living room, Rodney headed outside to take care of the pool. He fumbled with the skimmer, scooping up the twigs and leaves floating around. "This is ridiculous," Rodney mumbled to himself. "It's a waste of my valuable time." As he reached to get the debris from the center of the water, the skimmer slipped from his grasp and sunk to the bottom of the pool. Disgusted, he stormed off into the kitchen and grabbed the phone book before dropping into a chair. Browsing through the directory, Rodney found the section entitled Pool Cleaning Services. He picked up the phone and dialed the first number listed.  
  
"Atlantis Pool Cleaning, can I help you?" a chipper voice on the other end asked.  
  
"Oh, um, I need someone to come and clean my pool."  
  
"Will this be a one time thing or are you looking for someone to come on a regular basis?" the woman asked.  
  
"I'll need someone on a regular basis, I guess," Rodney replied.  
  
"And do you want the basic service or the deluxe?"  
  
"What does the deluxe service include?"  
  
"Checking the PH levels, cleaning and maintenance of the filter, cleaning the pool three times a week," the woman explained. She went over pricing, got Rodney's address and scheduled the first appointment. "There's an opening this afternoon, if you're available."  
  
"I have to be home to get my pool cleaned?"  
  
"We like our customers to be there the first time."  
  
"Okay, yeah, I'll be here." It's not like he had anywhere else to be.  
  
"Perfect. I'll be sending John over around one. Have a nice day."  
  
"You too," Rodney said absently and hung up the phone.  
  
***  
  
By 10 am Sarah had ditched Rodney to go shopping, leaving him alone to wait for the pool guy. He spent the morning checking his email and surfing the internet for music. At ten to one the doorbell rang, so he closed his laptop and shuffled into the foyer.  
  
When Rodney opened the door a guy in green, cut-off shorts and a tight, black t-shirt bearing the Atlantis Pool Cleaning logo was leaning against one of the wooden supports of the porch. Rodney crossed his arms over his chest and looked him up and down, taking in golden skin and dark hair that stood at odd angles. "So, you're the pool boy."  
  
"I prefer Pool Maintenance Technician," the man quipped with an easy grin. "John Sheppard." He removed his sunglasses and offered Rodney his hand.  
  
"Dr. Rodney McKay," Rodney said, returning the handshake.  
  
Sheppard cocked an eyebrow. "As in MD?"  
  
"As in PhD," Rodney replied loftily. "Twice over, in fact."  
  
"Cool."  
  
Sheppard smiled again and Rodney couldn't help smiling back.  
  
"Well," he said, clapping his hands together, "ready to take a look at the pool?"  
  
"Sure," Sheppard drawled.  
  
Rodney led him into the kitchen and through the large sliding glass doors, out onto the patio. He grimaced at the feel of the sticky heat and swiped at the band of sweat that had already begun to prickle on the back of his neck.  
  
"I hope you don't mind me saying this but, you don't really seem like the outdoors type," Sheppard noted.  
  
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Gee, what gave it away? My complete lack of tan in the middle of August?" he asked, haughtily.  
  
Sheppard shrugged. "Just a feeling," he said with a hint of teasing. "So, why even bother with the pool?"  
  
"Someone has to do it and it certainly won't be me. I am a very important person with very important things to do."  
  
"Uh huh."  
  
"And," Rodney continued babbling, "god forbid Sarah do anything around here."  
  
"Who's Sarah?" Sheppard asked.  
  
"My girlfriend." Rodney's eyes must have been playing tricks on him, because Sheppard looked a little disappointed. "Well," he said, with a wave of his hand. "I'll leave you to do your thing. Stop in my office before you go and pick up the check."  
  
"Yes, sir," Sheppard said, giving a sloppy salute.  
  
***  
  
About an hour later, Rodney heard the patio door slide open, and then closed.  
  
"Dr. McKay?" Sheppard called out.  
  
"In here, Mr. Sheppard." Rodney spun his office chair to face the door just in time to see Sheppard's head peek in.  
  
"John," Sheppard said flashing that irresistible grin again.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Mr. Sheppard is my father. Call me John."  
  
"Oh," Rodney said, a little flustered. "Um, okay, John." The name sounded strange and over-emphasized falling off his tongue. "Well, I guess you can call me Rodney, then."  
  
John's smile broadened. "I'd like that."  
  
Rodney stood and handed John the check.  
  
"I'll be here Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, probably around three. Is that good for you?"  
  
"Yes," Rodney replied. "Just make sure you latch the back gate when you leave. It has this habit of swinging open if not closed properly. I'll leave the check under the doormat."  
  
"Sure thing, Rodney. I'll let myself out."  
  
A few minutes later, Rodney heard rustling in the kitchen. He went to investigate and found Sarah unloading shopping bags on the table. "Did you leave anything for the other people to buy?" he asked snidely.  
  
"Ha, ha," she replied, glaring at him. "Who was that leaving the house?"  
  
"Just the pool boy."  
  
***  
  
Rodney didn't see John again for three weeks. It was a Monday afternoon when he stomped into the house and dumped his belongings on the kitchen table before grabbing a beer from the fridge. Turning, Rodney almost dropped the bottle when he was startled by John's goofy face pressed against the sliding glass door. "Jesus Christ," he snapped after unlocking the door and yanking it open. "You scared the crap outta me."  
  
"Sorry," John said sheepishly. "I was just trying to be funny."  
  
"Don't quit your day job," Rodney grumbled.  
  
"So, you're home early," John remarked.  
  
"Yeah, well, I kinda told my boss that he was a complete moron and he sorta told me that I should take a little 'vacation'."  
  
"Wow. You're lucky you didn't get fired."  
  
"Oh, please," Rodney scoffed. "The company wouldn't survive without me."  
  
"What is it exactly that you do?" John asked.  
  
"I'm a systems analyst. I develop software solutions for Fortune 500 companies."  
  
"Cool. So how long's this 'vacation' going to last?"  
  
"A few weeks, which I guess isn't so bad. It'll give me time to work on some side projects," Rodney mused  
  
"Well, I'm just about finished up, so I guess I'll head out."  
  
"Wanna beer?"  
  
John smiled. "Sure."  
  
***  
  
After being home for two weeks, Rodney had made significant progress with his work, but not as much as he'd hoped. Three days a week, usually somewhere around 3 o'clock, he became distracted. Eventually, Rodney would take a break from typing to make fun of John's wayward hair. It certainly wasn't so he could watch the patch of skin on John's back that peeked out when his shirt rode up.  
  
"I think you missed a spot," Rodney taunted from the lounge chair that was strategically placed under the awning and far from splashing distance.  
  
John stuck his tongue out. "Man, it sure is hot today. It must be a hundred degrees out."  
  
Rodney glanced over at the thermometer. "Not quite, but close," he said before taking a sip of beer; a sip he practically choked on as John suddenly stripped off his shirt and used it to mop the sweat from his face.  
  
"You okay?" John asked.  
  
"Yeah," Rodney squeaked and then cleared his throat. "Yeah, I just swallowed wrong."  
  
As John was finishing up for the day, Sarah walked out onto the patio in a bikini that didn't leave much to the imagination. Rodney got up and crossed the patio to where she stood. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"I'm just going for a quick swim before I pack for my trip," she explained.  
  
"Trip?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm meeting a client in Vegas. I'll be gone for a week. Don't you remember?"  
  
Rodney swore he would have remembered her telling him about a week-long business trip. Maybe the heat was frying his precious brain cells. "Um, yeah, sure," he lied.  
  
Sarah looked John up and down. "Don't be rude, Rodney. Introduce me to the pool boy."  
  
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Sarah, John. John, Sarah. There, happy now?"  
  
Sarah ignored him and took John's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you John," she said, giving him a predatory look.  
  
"Nice to meet you too, Sarah."  
  
With great satisfaction, Rodney noticed that John's smile didn't reach his eyes.  
  
As Sarah passed John to get into the pool she pinched his ass, making him jump.  
  
"Well, I'd better be going," he said, looking uncomfortable.  
  
***  
  
The thing Rodney hated most about Mondays was having to get up early after being able to sleep late two days in a row. Now that he was on vacation, he allowed himself the luxury of sleeping in. Even though Rodney slept until noon, he was still exhausted. Having Sarah away all weekend disconcerted him. The way she'd been acting lately was bothering him and he spent most of the night obsessing over it. He was in a foul mood as he sat staring at his computer screen trying to actually get some work done.  
  
A few hours later, John poked his head into the office and Rodney let out an irritated sigh. "What?" he huffed, spinning around in his chair.  
  
"Hey." John smiled brightly. "So, what do you do when you're not cooped up in this stuffy office programming?"  
  
"What do _you_ do when you're not busy annoying extremely important programmers?" Rodney countered.  
  
"Oh, the usual stuff: skateboarding, surfing, taking math classes at Caltech," John said casually.  
  
Rodney eyed him suspiciously. "You're taking math classes at Caltech?"  
  
"Yeah, I'll have my masters in AMS by the spring."  
  
Rodney stared at him in disbelief. "You're going to have a master's degree in applied math and statistics and you're wasting your time cleaning pools?"  
  
John shrugged. "Seriously," he said, ignoring Rodney's scrutiny. "You can't lock yourself in here all day. It's not good for you."  
  
Rodney scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. "And what do you suggest I do?"  
  
"Well," John replied, scratching the back of his neck. "You're my last job for the day. We could order in Chinese and watch cheesy sci-fi flicks."  
  
Rodney's expression softened. "Yeah, okay." He agreed to hang out because he was bored and lonely, not because he thought John looked cute when he fidgeted nervously.  
  
***  
  
They ate in relative silence, sitting on high-backed stools at the kitchen island. Rodney leaned into his palm; elbow propped on the counter, as he stared into space and pushed his dumplings around on his plate. When he looked up, John was studying him thoughtfully.  
  
"You really miss Sarah, huh?" he asked around a mouthful of beef and broccoli.  
  
Rodney nodded.  
  
"So, give her a call. Tell her," John said, gesturing to the phone. "Chicks dig that stuff."  
  
"I've called three times today and it keeps going to voicemail."  
  
"Maybe she doesn't have service," John suggested.  
  
Rodney gave him a skeptical look. "In Vegas? Doubtful."  
  
"Have you tried calling the hotel?"  
  
"She didn't leave me the number," Rodney complained.  
  
"Do you even know which hotel she's staying at?"  
  
"No. She doesn't really like to take personal calls when she's working. And I'm usually too busy to notice she's away," Rodney admitted.  
  
"I bet the credit card company knows where she's staying," John said with a mischievous grin.  
  
Rodney's eyes lit up. "You're absolutely right!" He turned on his laptop and signed into his credit card account to find out that there was a charge from the MGM Grand Hotel and Casino. Rodney looked up the number and spoke to the woman at the front desk who transferred the call up to Sarah's room. He let it ring ten times before hanging up with a frustrated sigh.  
  
"She's probably out having dinner," John consoled, patting Rodney's shoulder. "Come on, let's watch some movies. You can try again later."  
  
"Yeah, sure," Rodney agreed halfheartedly, sliding off the stool and heading into the living room.  
  
***  
  
More than six hours later, Rodney's brain was reeling from being forced to watch a Back to the Future marathon on the SciFi Channel. "God, that was atrocious," he grumbled.  
  
"Aww, come on, Rodney. You have to admit, those movies are cool."  
  
"No, I don't," Rodney argued. "Especially not when my four year old niece has a better grasp of physics than the writers did."  
  
John bumped their shoulders together. "You at least have to admit that you had a good time making fun of the movies."  
  
"Yeah," Rodney conceded. "That was kinda fun." He yawned and looked at his watch. "Wow, it's already after one. Aren't you tired?"  
  
"Not really," John said. "But if you want me to go . . ."  
  
"No, no. I just need some coffee." Rodney levered himself off the couch. "Do you want some?" he offered.  
  
"Yeah, sure." John joined Rodney in the kitchen. "Are you gonna try calling Sarah again?"  
  
"Do you think I should?"  
  
"Go ahead. What's the worst that could happen?"  
  
***  
  
Rodney thought the worst that could happen was that Sarah would be pissed at him for waking her up. Apparently, he had a limited imagination. After the girl at the front desk transferred his call to Sarah's room, it was picked up on the fourth ring.  
  
"Hello," answered a sleepy sounding and distinctly male voice.  
  
Rodney froze.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
At first, Rodney assumed he'd been transferred to the wrong number and was about to apologize when he heard Sarah's voice in the background. "Who is it, sweetie?"  
  
_Sweetie?_  
  
"I don't know," the man said. "There's nobody there."  
  
"Must have been a wrong number," Sarah said. "Come back to bed."  
  
The next thing Rodney heard was a click, then the dial tone and finally the angry buzzing of the phone being off the hook for too long. John gently took the receiver and placed it in the cradle, leading Rodney to sit on the couch. The aroma of coffee wafted up from the cup that was handed to him. He clutched it protectively, like a lifeline, concentrating on the swirls of steam to avoid thinking about what just happened.  
  
Three cups later John finally asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
"What's there to talk about?" Rodney said bitterly.  
  
"Well, you can start by telling me what happened."  
  
"I called Sarah and a man answered her phone. End of story."  
  
"Are you sure . . ." John started.  
  
"Yes," Rodney interrupted harshly. "I heard her in the background. There was no way to misinterpret what was going on."  
  
John awkwardly patted Rodney's shoulder. "I'm really sorry, buddy. That sucks."  
  
"Well, that's the understatement of the year," Rodney snapped.  
  
"I'm just trying to help," John said, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth.  
  
Rodney let out a deep sigh. "I know. I had no right to yell at you like that. I'm not going to be much fun anymore tonight. You should probably get going."  
  
"For what it's worth," John said. "I had a really great time tonight."  
  
"Thanks," Rodney replied. "Me too."  
  
"See ya Wednesday."  
  
***  
  
The rain fell like teardrops, in long rivulets dripping down the window pane. Rodney sat at the island, shoulders hunched, as he watched fat drops splash into the pool. The only reason he got out of bed today was because John was coming. In fact, he was expected any minute.  
  
The doorbell rang.  
  
Rodney trudged to the front door, scratching at two days worth of beard stubble. He opened the door and John bustled in carrying bags of groceries. Rodney watched, intrigued, as John surveyed the kitchen with its empty beer bottles and Chinese food containers.  
  
"Just as I thought."  
  
"What?" Rodney asked defensively.  
  
"Look," John said. "I know you're upset, but you can't go living on beer and Chinese food."  
  
Rodney ignored him in favor of poking around in the bags. "What's all this?"  
  
"Dinner," John said. "And dessert."  
  
Rodney took a step back. "Nothing citrus, I hope."  
  
John tilted his head to the side and looked at Rodney curiously. "No, why?"  
  
"I'm deathly allergic to citrus," Rodney explained.  
  
"Duly noted," John said with a nod. "Okay, you unpack the groceries and I'm going to clean the pool. Then it's dinner time."  
  
"You're gonna clean the pool in this weather?" Rodney asked incredulously.  
  
"Yup," John answered with a goofy grin. "I'll be done in a jiffy."  
  
As John went outside, Rodney could see rain letting up and the sun already peeking through the clouds. He was starting to feel better already.  
  
***  
  
A loud splash had Rodney scrambling out of his office and racing outside. He found John standing in the shallow end of the pool, looking decidedly unhappy. His wet hair was plastered to the side of his head and droplets of water fell from his eyelashes and nose.  
  
"Are you okay?" Rodney asked tentatively.  
  
John scowled and climbed up the ladder. He was sporting an impressive scrape on his left leg, skin raw and bleeding. "Yes," he said mulishly.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"I slipped," John grumbled.  
  
"Let's get that cleaned up."  
  
Rodney led John to the master bathroom. He grabbed a bottle of peroxide and some cotton balls out of the cabinet and set them on the counter as John stripped out of his wet clothes. When Rodney turned around, John was clad in only soggy boxers that clung intimately to interesting parts of his anatomy. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his eyes above John's waist. That proved to be a mistake, because he ended up staring into John's eyes, a mesmerizing shade of hazel flecked with green. John stared back and it sent shivers down Rodney's spine.  
  
Licking his lips, John's gaze flicked down to Rodney's mouth; his pupils dilated, leaving only a thin ring of color. He took a step closer to Rodney and brushed their lips together, just a tease, as if asking permission.  
  
"Your leg," Rodney whispered.  
  
"Shhh," John replied, wrapping a hand around the base of his neck and drawing him closer.  
  
The kisses started slow and slick, all lips and tongue. John's mouth was soft against his and Rodney was surprised by the low, needy sounds he made. Rodney's hands found purchase on John's hips as the kisses grew wild and dirty. He opened willingly as John claimed his mouth, exploring every part of it with tongue and teeth.  
  
They paused for air, panting harshly with their foreheads pressed together. John slipped off his boxers and fumbled with the zipper of Rodney's shorts until he was able to reach Rodney's cock. "Just to take the edge off," he said with a wicked grin as he took them both in hand.  
  
"Oh, god," Rodney moaned, his fingers digging harder into John's hips.  
  
They supported each other, watching avidly, as John expertly worked their cocks, a fast-paced rhythm that sent them over the edge way too quickly. It was exhilarating, none the less.  
  
"That was the hottest thing that's ever happened to me," Rodney admitted.  
  
"We'll see if you still feel that way later tonight," John murmured in his ear.  
  
They cleaned themselves up, dried John off and took care of his wound, which really wasn't as bad as Rodney thought. He lent John a pair of sweatpants which were a little too big. Even with the drawstring pulled tight, they hung low on John's slender hips and Rodney couldn't help staring at the crease between John's stomach muscles and hip bone.  
  
Back in the kitchen, things were a lot less awkward than Rodney expected. John breaded chicken cutlets, while Rodney boiled potatoes. They joked around, talked about the latest game John got for his X-box and debated over who would make it into the World Series. John stole a quick kiss while showing Rodney how much milk and butter to add to the potatoes before mashing them. All in all, it seemed relatively normal to Rodney, domestic even.  
  
After Rodney finished mashing and John finished frying, they sat down to eat. The dinner conversation was just as animated as most of their conversations. Rodney complained about the stupidity of the American government ("What? You're Canadian?") and John explained the merits of football over hockey ("Oh, please, hockey is a much more skilled sport."). Rodney didn't remember enjoying a meal this much in a long time.  
  
"That was excellent, John. Thank you," he said after licking the last of the mashed potatoes from his fork.  
  
"It was my pleasure, Rodney."  
  
"So," Rodney said, as he began to clear the plates. "What's for dessert?"  
  
John laughed. "Did you even look at the groceries as you put them away?"  
  
Rodney blushed. "I was a little distracted."  
  
John went to the fridge and pulled out a container of whipped cream, a quart of strawberries and package of small cakes. "Mini strawberry shortcakes," he announced.  
  
Rodney finished cleaning the dishes and John set everything up on the kitchen island. While John seemed distracted with slicing strawberries, Rodney tried to sneak one from the bowl. He was about to take a bite, when John caught his arm and pulled Rodney's hand towards his mouth. John ate half of the strawberry in one shot and the juice dribbled down Rodney's hand and arm in the aftermath. John grinned at him playfully and, starting at the tip of Rodney's pinky, began to lick his way down, stopping to suck at the pulse point on Rodney's wrist. Then he looked up and the heat in his gaze almost melted Rodney's spine.  
  
John leaned forward and Rodney met him halfway for a kiss. He tasted sweet, like summer, and Rodney couldn't resist the urge to run his tongue along John's full bottom lip to savor the flavor. They pressed closer, bodies flush hip to chest, as they wound around each other. A soft groan escaped John's lips and Rodney didn't waste the opportunity to slip inside. He lost himself in warm, wet kisses; lost himself in John's welcoming mouth; sunk his hands into thick, unruly hair and just let himself be swept away, like dust on a windy day.  
  
John's hands snaked under Rodney's shirt, pushing it up and over his head amidst lush kisses. He backed him against the counter, shoving Rodney's shorts down around his ankles. Rodney's cock strained against the soft cotton of his underwear and he gasped as John ground their hips together. Tendrils of pleasure curled in his stomach when John's fingertips dipped below the waistband of his boxers, teasing the crease of his ass. Rodney nipped and sucked his way up John's neck and let John strip him completely.  
  
"Hop up on the counter," John coaxed.  
  
Rodney paused. "Do you really think that's sanitary?" he asked.  
  
John huffed out a laugh, mixed with a hint of exasperation. "Rodney, do you want a blowjob or not?"  
  
Rodney didn't need to be asked twice. He scrambled onto the counter, and sat with his legs parted for John. His eyelids fluttered closed as his nipples were kissed and Rodney cupped the back of John's head encouragingly. The kisses trailed down his chest, across his belly and into the crease where thigh met groin. Rodney had to take a shaky breath to prevent himself from begging for more.  
  
The first swipe of tongue up his shaft had Rodney gasping and clutching the edge of the countertop. He leaned back on his elbows and spread his legs wider, offering himself to John. As John played, Rodney relaxed a little and tried to concentrate on each sensation – a hint of teeth in the kisses on his stomach, a tongue lapping at his slit, soft lips teasing his balls. The brush of stubble against his inner thigh reminded Rodney how different it felt to be with another man. It had been so long; he'd nearly forgotten.  
  
All memories were lost in a haze as John finally wrapped his lips around Rodney's erection. He slid down, slow and sweet, and back up again with a hint of suction. Rodney's eyes snapped open – he had to watch, had to see what John looked like sucking cock. It was beautiful, John's lips red and puffy, swallowing him down. Rodney traced his thumb around John's mouth where they were joined, watching with avid fascination as John's head bobbed. John looked up and their gazes locked. He quickened the pace and sucked harder, going down even further.  
  
"God, John," Rodney groaned, his body jerking as he came in long, hot pulses. When he was able to move again he said, "Wow."  
  
John laughed. "That good, huh?"  
  
Rodney didn't respond, he just grabbed John by the chin and kissed him roughly, chasing the taste of his own come on John's lips. Then he slid off the counter and sunk to his knees, pulling John's sweatpants off in the process. His cock sprang free, hard and leaking and Rodney took him in as deep as he could manage, sucking him fast and sloppy.  
  
"God. Yeah, Rodney, like that," John rasped and petted his hair. He came with a snap of his hips and Rodney swallowed the salty fluid, gentling John through the aftershocks.  
  
"Just like riding a bicycle," Rodney mumbled.  
  
"Huh?" Dazed was a good look on John. He seemed wrecked, leaning back against the stool for support, and it gave Rodney a thrill to know that he was the cause.  
  
"I haven't given a blowjob since grad school," Rodney admitted.  
  
John pulled Rodney into an embrace, dropped kisses on his shoulders and rubbed his back. "It was perfect."  
  
"Stay the night?" Rodney asked hesitantly.  
  
Instead of answering, John dragged him off to the bedroom.  
  
***  
  
Rodney woke up alone, but there was a note on the nightstand.  
  
_Had to work. See you tonight. – J_  
  
Rodney smiled and went back to sleep.  
  
***  
  
When Rodney woke up again it was because the doorbell rang several times. He blinked blearily at his alarm clock – 10 am. _Oh well_ , he thought. _I should be up anyway._ He threw on his boxers and a robe and headed into the foyer.  
  
The doorbell rang again.  
  
"Hold your horses," Rodney shouted. "I'm coming." Rodney opened the door to find John on the other side, beaming. "What are you doing here?"  
  
John pouted.  
  
"Not that I'm not happy to see you," Rodney stammered. "But, don't you have to work or something?"  
  
The smile returned. "Heat advisory," John explained. "It going to be like a hundred and ten, so the boss gave me the day off."  
  
"Oh, that's good. Come on in."  
  
"Yeah, so I figured I'd come spend the day with you, since it's your last day of freedom and all," John said as he stepped into the house.  
  
Rodney frowned. He didn't really want to think about his job or Sarah. "Well, I just woke up, so let me grab a quick shower."  
  
"Sure thing. I'll make us some breakfast."  
  
***  
  
The kitchen smelled of cinnamon when Rodney entered, freshly showered. John stood at the stove, flipping slices of French toast and stirring scrambled eggs. Rodney sat down as two plates heaped with food were brought to the table. John had also, thoughtfully, poured some cranberry juice and there was a carafe of coffee as well. The plates were even garnished with the leftover slices of strawberry from the night before.  
  
"You are seriously amazing," Rodney praised.  
  
John ducked his head. "It was nothing." He sat at the table and said with a wink, "Eat up. You'll need the energy today."  
  
***  
  
As they finished cleaning up their breakfast, the lights flickered briefly and then went out altogether. After checking the circuit breakers and then calling the electric company, it turned out that there were rolling blackouts in the area caused by the amount of people using air conditioning.  
  
"Great," Rodney grumbled, already starting to sweat. "It's going to be a million degrees in here."  
  
"Let's get some windows open and then I have an idea on how to cool you off," John said.  
  
After opening most of the windows, John led Rodney to the bedroom and stripped off both their shirts. He kissed him with a fierce possessiveness that made Rodney tingle all over.  
  
"I thought you were going to help me cool down, not heat up," Rodney gasped.  
  
"Get undressed and lay face down on the bed," John murmured in his ear. "I'll be right back."  
  
Rodney complied, peeling out of his shorts and boxers and sprawling on his stomach on the bed, head pillowed on his folded arms. A few moments later, he saw John in the mirror before he felt the bed dip. John placed a bowl of ice on the nightstand and took off the rest of his clothes. Settling between Rodney's legs, he scooped a cube out of the bowl and held it above Rodney's back until it began to drip.  
  
The cool splashes were a welcome contrast to the sticky heat of the bedroom. Slowly, Rodney felt the ice being dragged across his shoulder blades and down his spine. He shivered at the exquisite sensation as it dipped slightly into the crease of his ass. Then, like liquid fire, John's tongue licked a path from Rodney's tailbone to the base of his neck and back down again. The process was repeated with ice and tongue until Rodney was writhing.  
  
On the next pass down, the ice cube diverted from his spine to trace the curves of his ass and John's tongue followed. Rodney melted faster than the ice as John continued to tease him, rubbing the cube around his hole before pushing it in a little.  
  
"God, John," he moaned and caught the look of rapture on John's face reflected in the mirror.  
  
"You like that?" he asked huskily, his eyes not straying from Rodney's ass.  
  
"Yes, please," Rodney whimpered.  
  
John reached for another cube and pressed it against Rodney's hole until it slipped inside.  
  
"Holy fuck," Rodney yelped.  
  
"Shhh," John soothed and spread Rodney open to lick and suck at the ice.  
  
"Oh my god." Rodney pushed up to his knees and shoved back against John's tongue, as John slowly took him apart, lick by maddeningly slow lick.  
  
By the time the ice cube had finally melted, Rodney was desperate. His whole body felt electrified, every inch of skin itching for John's touch. He wriggled into the cradle of John's hips, needing to feel him everywhere, needing to be surrounded and filled. "Fuck me," he groaned.  
  
"Yeah?" John asked. Rodney felt the smile against his shoulder.  
  
"God, yes, please," Rodney begged. "Just, come on. There's stuff in the nightstand."  
  
"Yeah, okay. Turn over. I want watch you when I fuck you," John said, low and breathy.  
  
Rodney quickly rolled onto his back, pulling John in for a searing kiss, his hands greedily gliding over damp skin. John took over, slowed it down, calmed Rodney's pace until all he could focus on was the affection in John's gaze. Then, with one slick finger, he traced Rodney's hole, spiraling inward until he pushed just the tip in.  
  
Rodney tensed at the burn and John waited patiently for him to relax again. When he finally did, John inched his way inside, pushing slowly and gently until the entire length of his finger was surrounded by Rodney. John was even more careful with the second finger, giving Rodney long moments to adjust between each knuckle.  
  
After three fingers, Rodney had waited enough. "John, if you don't hurry up and fuck me I'm going to . . ." His words were lost when John rubbed a fingertip across his prostate.  
  
John smirked and withdrew his fingers, much to Rodney's disappointment. He tore open the foil packet, rolled the condom over his dick and added lube before slowly pressing into Rodney. His hands bracketed Rodney's head and Rodney could see the muscles flexing with the strain of going so slow. Rodney encouraged him to speed up by wrapping his legs around John's torso and digging his heels into the small of John's back.  
  
John chuckled. "Alright, I can take a hint," he said and began to fuck Rodney a little faster.  
  
Sweat dripped from the tips of John's hair onto Rodney's forehead and he turned to avoid getting any in his eyes. In the mirror, he could see the sharp angles of John's shoulder blades, rivulets of sweat trickling between them. His head was thrown back; eyes squeezed shut as he arched with each thrust. Enraptured by the sight, Rodney stared, wide-eyed, at the vision of John's beautiful, lithe body above his.  
  
Every twist of John's hips, each flex of powerful thighs, brought Rodney closer to completion. The pleasure was amplified by John wrapping his hand around Rodney's cock, sending sparks from his scalp to the tips of his toes. He hovered on the precipice of that perfect moment, the moment just before release, his body taut. Then his orgasm crashed through him, trying to shatter him into a million pieces while John held him together.  
  
John froze above him, muscles rigid as he came with Rodney's name on his lips. He pulled out gently and slowly lowered himself next to Rodney, curling around his body.  
  
After catching his breath, Rodney rolled onto his side to face John. Cupping his cheek, he pulled John in for a slow, tender kiss. "I don't want to give this up," he confessed.  
  
John's smile lit up his face. They kissed again until exhaustion won out and they slipped into a sated slumber.  
  
***  
  
Rodney didn't hear anything until the door swung open and Sarah was standing there with an astonished look on her face. "Rodney?"  
  
Rodney rubbed his eyes and sat up. "Sarah?  
  
She looked from him to John and back again before fleeing the room.  
  
"Sarah, wait," he called out, pulling on his boxers to chase after her. Rodney turned back to see John's stony expression. He shrugged apologetically and left the room.  
  
***  
  
Sarah was pacing the length of the patio when Rodney caught up with her. "I'm gone for less than a week and you're fucking the poolboy?" she yelled, with righteous fury.  
  
"I don't know where you get off being angry at me when you've been cheating on me for god knows how long," Rodney yelled back.  
  
"Excuse me? I don't know where you get your ideas, but . . ."  
  
"Don't treat me like I'm an idiot," Rodney snapped. "I called your hotel room."  
  
Sarah's eyes widened with realization and she sunk down onto a lounge chair. "Oh god, Rodney. I'm so sorry. You weren't supposed to know about that."  
  
Rodney sat on an adjacent chair, crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her. "Well, I know."  
  
Grasping his hands in hers, Sarah looked up with teary eyes. "I'm sorry," she said. "It won't happen again. I know we can work through this."  
  
He thought of John, who laughed at his stupid jokes and shared his passion for science fiction and coffee ice cream. Jerking his hands away, he looked Sarah in the eye. "You're right. It won't happen again," Rodney said sternly. "I want you to go."  
  
"You what?"  
  
"I want you to go," he repeated with more conviction. "I'm tired of you treating me like garbage. Pack your things and leave."  
  
***  
  
When Rodney returned to the bedroom, John was already dressed, a somber, resigned expression on his face. Rodney closed the door behind him and opened his mouth to speak, but John held up a hand. "Don't," he said.  
  
"But," Rodney started to reply.  
  
"You don't have to explain," John interrupted. "I understand." He walked to the door and reached for the doorknob.  
  
"Yes, I do," Rodney protested, grabbing John by the bicep. He spun him around and pressed him up against the door, kissing him soundly.  
  
John stared at him, confusion apparent in his eyes.  
  
"Idiot," Rodney said fondly. "I chose _you_."  
  
John's eyebrows shot up high on his forehead. "Really?"  
  
"Yeah, really. Sarah's coming back tomorrow to pack up her stuff."  
  
"Well in that case," John said with a sly smile, "I think this calls for a celebration." He grabbed Rodney by the wrist and dragged him back to bed.  
  
The End

  
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